Past is Prologue
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: What if Sentinel won? What if Cybertron was brought to Earth, and all the humans were enslaved? What if the Autobots were gone? What would you have to live for? A slave's story of the war and its consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Optimus Prime: Deceased.

Bumblebee: Deceased.

Ironhide: Deceased.

Ratchet: Deceased.

Megatron: Deceased.

Remaining Autobots: Missing; presumed deceased.

Sam: Deceased.

Carly: Deceased.

Victory: Secure.

Sentinel Prime stood tall, looking over the ruins of Cybertron. His electric blue eyes flashed.

"We will rebuild."

* * *

"Identification: 82724. Duties: Atmospheric restoration."

A flash of laser lights read the eye presented. It was followed by a faint beep, and a cool, computerized voice said, "Identification noted. Proceed."

Spark flipped the visor to her helmet down; there was a hissing noise as it sealed itself shut. She stuck her hand into the reader on the wall, covered in a glove, and waited as her assignment was written on it. She began to hum, 'It's a Small World' as the airlock compressed. The door opened and slowly, carefully, she clipped her tether to the Line before pulling herself along it.

It was a rather impressive setup. Below her, the groundwork-buildings, environment and the like- was being destroyed and rebuilt, piece by piece. She peered down; not that you could see any of it. The most you could see of the groundwork crew from up here was their handiwork; a tall tower that scraped the skies, or the billowing cloud of rubble as an old monument was turned to dust.

Above, there was only the Line. There had only ever been the Line.

Though, she supposed, it wasn't a 'line', per say. It was a criss-cross of thin metal rods, a lacework of webbed patterns, composed of a metal far stronger then any on Earth had been. Those on Atmospheric Restoration were connected to it, keeping them from being sucked into the ice-cold darkness of space. Spark continued with her cheerless whistling, one of the only noises in the area. There was complete radio silence, and the world outside certainly wasn't offering any sound.

For a moment, everyone listened to her mindless tune, grateful for the minor reprieve from the heart-wrenching silences. Spark made her way down the Line and towards her assigned station. She flipped up the dark-tinted visor to give her a clearer look at it, gripping the bar she was tethered to in an attempt to keep her balance a little better in the zero-gravity.

She found herself looking at one of the oxygen generators; she frowned. Force fields- the only thing currently keeping the thin atmosphere clinging to the planet, and keeping all of their hard work from going to waste- were usually her forte. She was less familiar with the workings of the gas generators; but then, machinery was machinery. If it ran on wires and electricity, then Spark could understand it. She mimed cracking her knuckles- a nearly impossible task in her thick gloves- and got to work.

"Spark, you lazy little lowlife, get your ass down here!" The voice stopped her before her fingers could even touch the wires.

Spark grinned, pulling her hands away. Her index finger went reflexively to the ear of her helmet, despite the fact that she no longer needed to push a button to respond to those already on her frequency. "Nice to hear your voice again, Colonel. Having trouble?"

"We couldn't be in worse trouble if the Line had snapped," The Colonel answered darkly. "Now get _down _here!"

"Rather hostile, aren't we?" Spark said, still smiling to herself as she pulled herself downwards expertly. She was almost ashamed to admit that she was more comfortable in zero-g than normal gravity these days. "What seems to be the problem?"

"The problem? I'll tell you the _problem, _Spark. Your generator stopped working!"

"I see."

"You see? By Cybertron, she sees! Get down here and _fix it,_ before the Decepticons see it and we all catch hell for _your_ failure!"

"Now, now, no need to be so rude," Spark admonished. She drifted to his side, unclipping her tether from the section of the Line it was on, and closer to him. She looked to him.

Over the years, she'd all but memorized his face: he had dark skin, with deep scars running down his cheek (and arms, though she couldn't see it now) from when one of the Decepticons had gotten angry. One of his brown eyes was completely blind, but the other sparkled with intelligence and dark humor. He had short-cropped black hair, sprinkled with grey, and a twisted nose that had been broken on more than one occasion.

Ah, the Colonel. Like most humans-like Spark herself- his nickname had been used so often that his real name had been all but forgotten; perhaps even by the Colonel himself.

"You see this?" He demanded of Spark, gesturing wildly to a small box. Circuits and buttons stuck out haphazardly, most of them fried. "This is the quality of your work, you ignorant little…"

Spark cut him off. "Actually, I'm not surprised."

He stared for a moment, then began to shout, "Not surprised! Huston, the lady is _not surprised!_ This is why we'll never get back to Earth, ladies and gentlemen, this girl right here! Let's give her a hand!" he began to clap noisily through his gloved hands.

"This is the box that Starscream hit the other day." Spark went on as though he'd never spoken. He stopped.

"Ah."

"Yes." She said, smiling at him. "Ah."

There was a moment of silence, and then the two started laughing.

He clapped her on the back, looking fondly at her. "Get it fixed, you little idiot."

"Will do." She replied primly, grinning. Despite the Colonel's foul mouth and even fouler temper, the two had been close friends since they'd arrived on Cybertron together. And, in all honesty, there was no one she trusted more.

She began her whistling again, a tuneless little number that was played throughout the radio system. She got to work immediately, fixing up the wires, fiddling with the buttons, and swearing loudly when things didn't work out. Another force field generator would be working to compensate for this one, but it was only a limited thing; she had to get this working quickly.

There _were_ large pockets of breathable air around Cybertron, but there were other, larger areas where there was only space. This wasn't as much of a problem for the Decepticons, but it was an entirely different matter for their human slaves. One of Spark's jobs was making sure that there was some kind of an atmosphere, based on the one that Cybertron previously had. It was breathable, if a little thick, to humans, and perfectly home for the Decepticons.

She attached a wire into its proper socket, and smiled to herself as a green light glowed inside it. She slammed the box closed, pushing herself away from it, and started climbing upwards, back to her original job. This had set her back a bit, but it was nothing she couldn't handle.

As she wrapped her hands around the metal bars, she felt them starting to vibrate against her palm. She frowned, mumbling into the radio, "Overlord alert." There was a number of faint, discontent mutterings, and the area around her became thick with tension. Everyone quickly turned their focus solely on their work; Spark made it up to her station and did the same.

A large, thick, black shape made its way towards them. It navigated along the platforms that had been set out; platforms too widely spaced for a human to use without the aid of the Line. Spark fought a groan and forced her way to keep whistling, a bright, happy tune. It sounded like a funeral dirge as she plowed through it.

The Decepticon was tall, tall enough to reach to the higher parts of the Line from the platform below. It had a thick, sinuous body, like some kind of mechanical snake, but it stood on two powerful, broad legs. One arm slithered into a collection of solid, whip-like weapons, and the other into a clawed hand. Spark could hear the audible sighs from the people above and below her as people stole secret glimpses of the Decepticon. What they all were wondering and none were saying: Who was his next victim?

Spark continued to whistle as he connected to their radio signals, though everyone else fell completely silent. Her cheerless notes played out into the dead silence. The Decepticon's glowing red eyes locked on her, narrowing with a sharp mechanical whirring.

"Human." It pointed her out with its clawed hand. The whips on its other 'arm' clinked together gently, threateningly. "Identify."

Spark swore inwardly, knowing that it was pointing at her back but refusing to turn. She kept whistling.

"Human!" It barked. Spark, pretending to be surprised, turned to face him.

"Oh!" She bubbled. "I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" She giggled lightly. "Honestly, with these new headsets, one never knows anymore!"

The Decepticon glared in a very robot-like way. "Identify." It demanded again.

"82724." She answered gushingly. She watched as the red eyes flashed, reading her own eye and checking her records. There was a pause.

"This seems to be one of many times that you were reported." It said darkly, looking her in the eye. Spark smiled mindlessly back. Its metal lips pulled back over sharp, glistening teeth.

"Well, I have no idea why!" She said in a chirpy voice. "I only told those sons-of-bitches Decepticons to get off their fat asses and actually do something for once, instead of acting like bratty little five-year-olds with too much power in their hands." She shrugged, a bright smile on her face. "Is there a problem with that?"

The Decepticon stared at her in amazement. The Colonel- about seven feet down and to her right- shook his head wearily. There was a cold silence from the rest of the room.

In a movement quicker than anticipated, one of the whips wrapped around her throat. A sharp point on its end hovered just above her visor, ready to crack into it and expose her to the atmosphere-absent planet. Spark looked up at him, her amber eyes shining.

"Insolent human!" It shrieked. More of the whips snaked around her, gripping her arms and legs, wrapping around her securely. In seconds, she was completely and utterly trapped. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just…"

He never finished his sentence. Behind him, another Decepticon placed a hand on his shoulder. Spark's eyes darted to him; it was Starscream. Of course.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he hissed, a snake speaking to one of its own. Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke; the human captive tried not to retch.

"Yeah," Spark added to the first Decepticon, trying not to struggle from the iron grip. "Sentinel would be ever so pissed."

The other Decepticon blinked at Starscream, as though not quite comprehending. "I see no harm in…"

"Believe me." Starscream cut him off again. "Sentinel has given strict orders for her not to be killed." He seemed so different when he wasn't groveling in front of his leader. Spark sent a toothy grin in his direction, knowing that, if Sentinel showed up right now, the little worm would go straight back to his old self.

"Yeah, metal-breath." Spark couldn't resist tacking on. "I'm untouchable."

Starscream shot her an I-loathe-you-more-than-words-can-ever-say look, then said, a little too smugly, "She can, however, be taught a lesson. Proceed." He paused, then added, "Inside normal atmosphere."

_Crap, _thought Spark, as the Decepticon grinned viciously, carrying her towards the airlock. She tried, unsuccessfully, not to babble as she was taken away.

"Oh, right, here we go. Take her inside the normal atmosphere, wouldn't want to rip one of these suits. That would be bad, bad bad bad… Ooh, that's a lot of bads… I warn you, though, Sentinel won't be happy with you… though I don't suppose you care about that, I mean, what Sentinel doesn't know won't hurt him, right? Well, I've got quite the little tattle-tale mouth, don't I?"

They were inside the airlock now. Spark could feel the air rushing in as they exited, going inside the hollow metal cube beyond. It was large enough for a group of Decepticons, and therefore much bigger to humans. Spark was struggling now, unable to help herself. And then…

_Crap again! _

"Um, guys…" she felt the blood drain from her face as her struggling ceased. "You may want to let go now…"

The darkness was pressing in on the edges of her eyes, smothering her. Something burned in the back of her throat; words. Words that were not her own, yet demanded to be said, because if they didn't, they would burn a hole in her throat, and the pressure in her head would never cease…

"Identification: 44312. Status: Deceased."

Starscream shot her a look, as did the other Decepticon.

"Mission 82244. Status: failed. Members lost: 4242, 8219, 44853, 992, 70920. Total unit loss: 802. Commander Notes: none. Official report: Engine failure. Actual cause: Unknown. Mission Terminated."

Spark tried to strain against the words, but they kept flowing, unbidden and unwanted.

"What are you blabbering on about?" Starscream demanded of her. Spark struggled to speak, but _her_ words were drowned out by the others that forced their way through her lips.

"Mission 553829. Status: Failed. Members lost: 2222, 8934, 406. Total unit loss: 3. Commander Notes: catastrophic, should never have been attempted. Official report: Human rebellion. Actual cause: Unknown. Mission Terminated."

The list went on. The two Decepticons started to back away slightly, and the coils around Spark's body were beginning to relax.

"Mission 992217. Status: Failed. Members lost: 121. Total unit loss: 1. Commander Notes: They're here. Official report: None. Actual Cause: Returning Autobots. Mission to be reinstated."

"What's going on?" A loud voice cut through the air like a scythe. It was full of authority, large and commanding. Sentinel Prime stalked in through the doorway, blue eyes on fire. Spark couldn't respond, could only keep repeating the words in her head. The other two Decepticons exchanged a glance with each other; they couldn't exactly answer that question, either.

Sentinel took in the situation at a single glance, while Spark continued to mutter and mumble, listing numbers, missions, status, everything, a new mission each time. Sentinel looked to the Decepticon's coils, wrapped around Spark's all-too-human frame.

He didn't ask any questions; he simply fired on the Decepticon. It began to crumble and rust away before his eyes, and Spark dropped to the ground expertly. The flow of information coming from her lips didn't even stutter as she landed on one knee, the other propped up as she curled her arms around her head.

Sentinel gripped Starscream's head in his hand, pushing him against the wall, fingers digging into the metal of his second-in-command's skull. Starscream was immediately cowering, protesting in his serpentine voice, pleading, imploring.

"Sir, I never meant to…"

"Save your words, Starscream!" Sentinel snarled. The words were like razors, sharp and metallic. "I value that human's life more than I will _ever _value yours, do you understand me?" He pressed Starscream's head even further into the wall, bringing his face directly next to the other Decepticon's. "If I ever catch you near her again…"

"It will never happen…" Starscream hissed quietly, quailing, making promises. Sentinel pushed away from him, turning to Spark slowly. She was shaking now, the words breaking as she slowly managed to bring them under control, as her resistance started to succeed.

"Mission 889319… Status: Failed. Members… lost: 421, 1129, 4142, 4890… 3360. Total unit loss: 320… Commander Notes: None… Official… report: Construction… accident. Actual Cause: Unknown. Mission…Terminated."

Sentinel gently scooped her up into his hand, bringing her up to eye level. She looked into his eyes, amber against blue, and spat out the last words. Trembling, she collapsed onto the metal.

"Anything else?" He prodded gently. Almost kindly.

"Yeah…" She breathed, each word a strain. "Screw… you."

He raised an eyebrow and set her down on the ground once more. "If that is all, then. Back to your station, 82724." He ordered, his voice full of command.

Spark tried to stand, but her knees had turned to jelly. She collapsed to the ground, panting, her blonde hair trailing in front of her face, keeping her from seeing Sentinel and keeping him from seeing her. She took a few deep breaths, trying to stabilize herself.

She pulled herself up, still shaking, then lifted her head up to Sentinel. Her hair fell back, revealing her features entirely once again as she gave him her biggest, wickedest smile. Her teeth were entirely silver, a brilliant metal. Behind the amber of her eyes, a soft blue light was glowing. Her skin started to reflect the light a little differently, almost as though she were made of metal…

"A message for Sentinel Prime." She said, her words clipped, more metallic than any human's ever could be. "Run and hide. We're coming back."

**A/N: Yes, I basically killed off everyone. Sorry, but I figured that the Decepticons wouldn't let the Autobots on Earth live; or any humans that had helped them. Oh, well. Please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

The Colonel forced himself to eat despite the churning in his stomach, spooning as much of the grey rations as he could into his mouth. He chewed methodically, not really tasting anything; which was a mercy. His good eye scanned the crowd again, then darted back to the door. He kept waiting to see Spark's blonde head bobbing and weaving about among the others, kept waiting to see some kind of movement to indicate her arrival. He'd taken the table closest to the door for just that purpose.

Spark had not returned that entire morning; it was already lunchtime, and still she was not back. The Colonel had been forced to take her station (aided by Boss and Exile) and cover for her the rest of the day. Not that the Decepticons really cared about one missing human; the humans went missing all the time. And most of the time, it was the Decepticons' fault.

The door opened; the Colonel sat up straight, and sighed in relief as a furious-looking figure stalked through the door. She took long, loping strides, like she was trying to take off running without being noticed, and her hair trailed in front of her face, half-hiding it. Without the suit, she seemed a lot smaller, thinner, with her joints a bit more prominent. As she tried to pass by him, he gripped her arm tightly. She whirled to him, fire in her eyes, but it died down when she recognized him. Quickly, she looked away.

"Hey," he said gently. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "I had a stern 'talking-to'. What do you _think _happened?"

Always hiding behind her hostility. The Colonel rolled his eyes and stood. Spark turned her face to the side, hiding it beneath her hair. "Look, I've got to get something to eat before they put me back on duty."

The Colonel frowned slightly, then slowly reached forwards. She stiffened as his hand brushed her hair back, but allowed the action. He tucked the blonde strands behind her ear, then sighed slowly, lowering his hand and releasing her arm. "Oh, Sparky…"

She smiled wryly; the action looked painful, and drew blood from the corner of her lip where it had split open. "It's not that bad," She said, carefully wiping away the red that dribbled down her chin. A nasty, soon-to-be-bruise ringed her face around her forehead, eye, and cheekbone, and a cut ran along her jaw line. The Colonel frowned at her, and she said reassuringly, "I'm fine. Really."

"You don't look fine," The Colonel answered darkly. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. They decided to 'teach me a lesson'. There was nothing I could do."

"Don't lie to me." He ordered sternly, trying to look her in the eye and failing. She turned to him at last; and that's when he saw it. Just the faintest touch of blue behind her eyes… His own eyes widened. "You didn't lose it again, did you?" He asked, lowering his voice.

Spark didn't answer. She simply looked away. The Colonel took a step back. "You _did,_" he breathed in horror.

Her face turned stony. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Spark…"

"They're coming back."

"What?"

Spark turned away, walking off swiftly, not giving him a response. She went into the lunch line and managed to get her share of the rations just before it closed. The Colonel watched her, sitting down again, his mind buzzing. They're coming back? _They _are coming back?

No. It couldn't be them…

As Spark lowered herself into the seat next to him, she took a large bite of her own disgustingly grey food. She looked as sick as he felt. "You don't mean the…?" he said in a whisper, pulling her back to the conversation. He glanced around the room and ducked his head close to her, speaking so low that he was only mouthing the word, with only the 't' and 'b' sounds anywhere close to audible. "Autobots?"

Spark scowled. "That's exactly what I mean." She choked down another mouthful of food. The Colonel felt the blood rush from his face.

"No," he shook his head back and forth quickly, denial written all over his features. "They can't be coming back. It can't be. They wouldn't _do _that! Not… not again…" He looked down at the mush on his plate, and pushed it away. Suddenly, it seemed that no thoughts of starving to death could make him even touch that plate again.

"They wouldn't," Spark agreed savagely, stabbing the mush on her plate with a plastic spork. "But they _are._"

"Maybe… maybe you were wrong, I mean, it could have been an old transmission or something, maybe the Decepticons read it wrong or something…"

Spark turned and glared at him. "I checked that; the message couldn't have been older then a day or two; and it couldn't have been clearer, either." She cleared her throat and quoted, "'Run and hide. We're coming back.'"

The Colonel felt his face get impossibly paler. The room started to spin. "Are they out of their mechanical minds?" He hissed. "If they come back now… we'll all be dead!"

"Have they ever cared about that before?" The other slave demanded. "Face it. We're nothing but collateral damage," she spat the words out, jabbing her food one last time, viciously, like she wished it was someone's eye.

"This can't be happening…" The Colonel buried his face in his hands.

That was when Spark snapped.

"Well it _is _happening!" She screeched. All eyes turned to her as she shoved her chair backwards, standing and raging at the Colonel, who looked up at her in shock. "The Autobots are coming back, all right? They're coming back for us and we're all_ dead, _do you hear me, _dead! _Every last one of us! And your disbelief is not going to save your life, not going to make you any _less dead! _You are going to die, I am going to die, we are all _going to die!" _Her fingers were still clenching her tray; at the last word, she slammed it down onto the table, turned, and strode out furiously. One of the Decepticon guards tried to stop her, but she snarled at him; a sound so cruel and animalistic-yet tinged with red metal- that the Decepticon actually took a step back. Or perhaps it was the glowing blue in her eyes that made it step back. Whichever, it was a sight to behold.

Silence fell over the entire cafeteria. The Colonel looked down at the table, a sinking sensation in his stomach making him feel ill. Slowly, everyone began to return to their food, and their normal lives, but the fear in their eyes remained.

The Autobots were returning.

And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

* * *

Spark perched on the top of the Line, her feet dangling over the edge and into oblivion. The darkness of space surrounded her, a black nightmare in its emptiness. She watched the planet below her; the planet she'd grown up on-for the most part- but not the planet she was born on. Her house, not her home.

But then, she hadn't even been born in her true home. Her eyes darted to the side; from this angle, she could _just _see the Earth. That was home. That was where she belonged; where they all belonged. Where they would all be safe forever.

If they just finished work on Cybertron first. Once that was over, they could go home. They could go and fix Earth. Repair what the war had destroyed. It was the only dream- the only hope-that the humans had.

And now… the Autobots were trying to wrench that from their grasp once again.

Why? Why couldn't they understand that they weren't wanted? Why couldn't they get it through their thick skulls that these slaves did not _want _to be freed? Spark looked down to her hands, imagining her nails beneath. Her nails which were always silver-polished, though she had never once painted them, and looked like lethal weapons in and of themselves. Why couldn't they understand that no one needed _their _kind of help…?

"Hey," A voice said behind her; Spark tilted her head back. The woman was standing on a bar that had been placed right behind Spark's own, her tether clipped securely onto it. She looked a little shaky-very few people liked to be up this high, only Spark and Exile came here in their spare time- but she seemed to ignore her fear as she crossed over to Spark's bar. She sat down before unclipping her tether and onto the bar she now occupied, so that she was sitting down and secured next to Spark. "How are you holding up?" she asked, flipping up the dark-tinted visor. Spark already knew who it was; the English accent was a dead giveaway. But it was always nicer to be able to look someone in the eye to talk to them.

"I've been better," Spark answered with a wry grin. She looked back to Cybertron. It was beautiful, in its own way. But it would always be a prison to her.

"So it's true then?" the woman's brown eyes gave away nothing; no worry, no fear, nothing. Spark was not fooled. "The Autobots are coming back?"

"They're trying," Spark answered sadly, turning away. The woman shifted her eyes sideways. "I'm sorry, Boss."

"It's not your fault," the Boss answered sadly. "They're just… doing what they think is best. Misguided though it may be."

The two of them fell silent for a long moment; it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. They'd been friends for too long for that. Finally, Spark-looking not at the other slave, but out at the stars- asked in a soft voice, "Do you ever… do you ever wish you were free? I mean, ahead of schedule; that we didn't have to finish Cybertron. That we could just… go home. No matter what that meant; that the Autobots won, that the Decepticons died of a mysterious plague, anything. That we'd just be left alone?"

The Boss looked around nervously for a minute, checking the area. Spark rolled her eyes, but the Boss defending her actions. "Just because _you _don't always have to watch what you say around the Decepticons, doesn't mean _we _don't." She kept searching for a minute, then, finding nothing, answered the original question. "All the time." She rested her elbows on her thighs, her chin in her hands. "But it'll never happen. The Autobots don't have a chance anymore; and the Decepticons haven't caught any mysterious plague that I know of yet." There was another, shorter silence, and she asked, "What about you? Do you ever wish we were free?"

Spark glanced sideways at her. "I've never been free," She answered quietly. "I was born into slavery. You know that better then anyone." The Boss didn't answer. It wasn't _literally _true, but she definitely understood what she meant.

Spark sighed slowly through her nose. "I don't know what I'd be if I wasn't a slave," She went on. "But yes. I do wish that; if not for my sake, then the rest of humanity." Her eyes hardened as she looked at the planet again. "But not if it meant that the Autobots won."

The Boss shied away from the malice in the girl's voice. Spark was fairly young; perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four (birthdays were hard to keep track of these days), but there should not have been that much ancient hatred in her words. Fingering the dog tags on her neck, she breathed, "You hate them that much…" Her hands could not feel the familiar engraving in the metal plates, not through the gloves, but she knew it was there: _Eerie. _

"Yes," said Spark tonelessly; in the way only she could. "I do."

The Boss looked to the darkening bruises on her face, the cuts that were slowly scabbing over with dark, dried blood. It showed out so starkly against the slave girl's pale skin. The Boss's eyes traveled to Spark's; such a cold amber now, but she had seen another color shining through them. "Was it really so bad…?" She asked tentatively, reaching out, as though to touch her friend's shoulder.

Spark looked to her; the Boss' hand froze in its tracks. "No," she answered. "It was worse."

She stood back up, balancing precariously on the bar, and unclipped her tether. Only Spark was brave enough to do that before she was at the safety of the next bar. Brave enough, or suicidal enough. She leapt down expertly, navigating flawlessly in the zero-g. The Boss watched her go, glancing down to the dog tags on her neck. Slowly, she sighed and stood, navigating her own way down with far less precision.

She certainly was a strange one, that girl…

* * *

It took a while for the whispers on the radio to reach any kind of conclusion. Spark tuned in to different frequencies as she worked, picking up chatter on all ends despite her frantic search for silence; or even just static. Nothing. Everyone had their own comments on what was happening, and everyone felt inclined to put in their two cents on the matter, talking to their friend or neighbor or family, but never to Spark herself. Never to the one person who could confirm or deny the rumors floating around; the rumors based on _her _outburst.

"_They're so useless. They can't even-"_

"_I can't believe they would even consider-"_

"_What if she was just ly-"_

"_I don't believe it. I refuse t-"_

"_She's right. We're all gonna die. Why couldn't-"_

Spark bit her lip, trying not to groan aloud in frustration. She flicked through the stations even more rapidly.

"_Is it true? Are-"_

"_The war has been over for-"_

"_It's just one of Spark's-"_

"_Has she ever been wrong be-"_

Spark scrabbled uselessly at her radio, trying to rip it from where it rested; but it would have done her little good, even if she could have gotten purchase on it through her thick gloves. The one frequency she stayed on kept playing as she clawed at it pathetically.

"_If she is right… and the Autobots are returning… then what should we do?"_

"_There's nothing we can do,_" someone replied. _"We're going to die."_

"_No. I don't believe that. There has to be a way out. There's always a way out. We've survived all these years, haven't we?_"

Spark snarled aloud and flicked a command into her radio; immediately, her voice was broadcast over every frequency, every channel. It was an emergency system, but at this point, she couldn't care less.

"_Enough!_" She shrieked. The endless chatter and buzz died down in a heartbeat; she saw everyone halt in their work, and the ones nearby glanced to her guiltily. Spark panted heavily, exhausted by the squabbles of the day, exhausted by their worries and fears.

"I know you all have questions," She growled darkly into her microphone. "So ask me. Right here, right now, into my ears and to my face. Quit talking about me as though I can not hear, quit acting like I am not part of this!" She spat the last words out, the heat of her breath fogging up the visor, making it difficult to see.

A long silence followed her words; and it spoke volumes. They all wanted the truth. But they were all too scared of the truth.

Finally, a singular voice spoke in the night. "Is it true, Spark?" The quiet query came, "Are the Autobots returning?"

Spark sighed, low and long. They all knew it was true. But they all needed it confirmed. "Yes."

Immediate chaos erupted in her headphones. Cries of unfairness, imminent doom, and terror rang through her ears. Spark bit down hard on her lip, trying to keep her temper in control.

"I heard a transmission," she told them all, speaking over every one of them. They all fell silent again. "When the Decepticons had me. A transmission came over the speakers, and I heard it all. They checked it with me still in the room; it was only a few days old. They said, "Run and hide. We're coming back."

Spark purposely left out the fact that _she _had been the one to relay the transmission. The others knew there was something wrong with her, something _different. _But only the Boss and the Colonel truly knew what. The murmurings began again.

"Arethey_ crazy?_" Someone finally demanded. "They're going to get us all killed!"

"If they come back now… if they start another war… the Decepticons will…" Another person started, then trailed off. No one needed him to finish his sentence; they all knew what the Decepticons would do.

It was the sad truth that every time the Autobots attacked, the Decepticons would get angry. And when the Decepticons got angry, humans died. In their thousands. A careless wave of the hand here, an 'accidental' step to the right from a Decepticon, and who knew how many humans could get caught up in it. They were slaves, after all; and who cared if one or two slaves died?

And all the Autobots ever did was make life harder for them. None of their attacks succeeded. All they ever did was destroy their hard work; the buildings, the atmosphere, everything they worked to rebuild… and it would be destroyed in seconds.

"We're dead," Someone said after another moment. "We're all dead."

"Of course we're not!" Spark recognized this voice; the Boss. "We just have to think of a plan!" she snapped.

"A _plan?" _A younger woman to the right of Spark demanded hysterically. "A _plan? _We have no chance, no way to survive! No plan we make is going to save us! We're _dead!_"

More chaos erupted, a thousand conversations and pleas going on at once. Spark longed to clamp her hands over her ears, but it would do her little good. There were numbers pressing in on the back of her eyes, blackness threatening to envelop her, words trying to burn their way out of her throat… those numbers were back again, back to haunt her…

"_**ENOUGH!**_" She screamed again, catching everyone's attention immediately. Her voice carried louder than anyone's, sharper, more metallic. She looked to her friend a ways down the Line. "Boss, what kind of plan did you have in mind?"

"It's not going to work," Someone protested.

"We should just-" Someone else tried, but Spark merely snarled into the mike; a metallic sound that rang through every earphone there.

"Boss, _continue,_" she said darkly.

All eyes searched out the Boss and found her. She shuffled a little, restlessly, clinging to the bar above her head. "Well…" She said slowly. "The way I see it, the problem is simple. The Autobots keep coming because they think that we want to be freed. If they found out for themselves that this is the exact _opposite _of what we want…" She shrugged; the movement propelled her an inch downwards.

"It's not like we haven't tried to tell them," Exile's voice growled in reply.

"We've had the Decepticons tell them." The Boss countered. "Did we ever expect the Autobots to believe _them?_"

There were a few affirmative murmurs, some a bit grudgingly, but affirmative nonetheless. Everyone glanced around at each other. Spark nodded slowly to herself.

"So we have to find a way to tell them," Spark announced. "The only problem is, how do we do _that?_"

Immediately, ideas were thrown out. "Get the Decepticons to take a video message to the Autobot Base?"

"Would the Decepticons even go for that?"

"Possibly. They want The Autobots gone as much as we do."

"It's too risky. They'd shoot down any messenger in a second."

"And they wouldn't believe it even if it did go through; it would be delivered by their enemy and our conquerors."

"It has to be from us," Spark said firmly. "Something that says, 'Hi! We're definitely the humans, this is definitely _us _speaking, and you'd better shut up and leave us alone!'"

More quiet affirmatives.

"We could maybe set up a communications relay."

"No. It would take a few months to set up a humans-only frequency; we don't have that kind of time."

"Maybe we could borrow some equipment?"

"No. It has to be hands-off, humans-only," Spark broke in vehemently.

The Colonel, who had been strangely quiet this whole time, finally spoke up. "What about some old Autobot tech?"

Static.

More static.

"Something like that would have to be…" Someone said, then let out a tiny squeak of fear.

"Well, I'm not getting it," Someone else said darkly. "No way in hell I'm going back there, ever again."

"Same here," Someone else chimed in; others did the same.

The Boss, irritated, demanded, "Then _who?_"

A little more static. Then, a timid, female's voice, "Well, Spark, of course."

Slowly, surely, all eyes turned to Spark. Exile- who was a few bars up- drifted to her side, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. Spark was still somewhat numb; how had the conversation gotten _here?_

"No," The Colonel said at last. "No. No way I'm letting you do that, Sparky. You're not going there. We'll find another way."

"He's right," The Boss joined in. "It's suicide, even for you. If the Decepticons don't want you there…"

"But they would!" Someone protested. "They want the Autobots gone too, remember?"

"No!" The Colonel shouted. Spark stared out in shock. "We aren't even considering this! This isn't even an _option!_ The air… the skies… it's all _poison. _It's ash and smoke and rot and… And I won't let you see that again, Sparky, not yet, not until…" he trailed off, then, firmer, "_No. _It's not an _option._"

"It's the only option," Spark found herself whispering. Everyone looked to her, searched for her figure on the Line and locked eyes on her once they found her. Spark slowly drifted downwards, towards the center. "They're right. This is the only way."

She caught sight of the Boss; there were tears in her brown eyes. "Spark…" The Colonel kept protesting. "Please… Someone else can go, I'll go, just don't… don't do this to yourself…"

Spark laughed acidly. "You? You wouldn't last ten seconds." She shook her head back and forth quickly. "Face it. If anyone's going to Earth, it's going to be me."

**A/N: Yeah… I just made a _lot _of Autobot fans very angry with me… Oopsie. **

**There will be quite a bit of Autobot-bashing in this fic. I guess that's an advantage of killing off all of the original Autobots; I'm not going to beat up the characters you love. OR AM I? No. I'm not. Honestly. But, as a warning, there will be a lot of Autobot-Bashing, OCs, and OC Autobot-Bashing. **

**Anyway. To all my reviewers, you are awesome sauce, and thank you so much for reviewing. I'm going to try and keep this updated more frequently then I used to with my other fics, but I can make no promises.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Identity 82724 to the Med Station immediately," A Decepticon's voice hissed over the speakers. "Repeat: Identity 82724 to the Med Station _immediately._"

Spark looked to the ceiling. She'd just gotten through the hysteria of the Line, gone through her shift, gotten to her quarters, and was about to go to sleep when that voice came crackling through the intercom. She scowled, muttering something about scrap metal as she pulled on her work clothes. This was getting ridiculous. She ran her finger down the bruise on her face, which was now showing up rather nicely. Hadn't they already taken all the answers they wanted from her?

She navigated her way through the hallways, where identical doors stood on both sides. The slave's quarters. A lot easier to get through when there was no one around; not like in the mornings, when everyone was trying to get to the cafeteria, get to their jobs. She made it to the cafeteria, then up to the airlock, turning right. The Med Station was very close to the Line and, like everything, could be moved to another location in half a day once work on this section had been finished.

Spark knocked twice; it rang hollowly against the metal. She flicked out her hand, shaking the pain out of her knuckles. Why did everything in this place have to be _metal?_

"Enter," came the serpentine response; Spark smiled. Starscream. She should have known.

The door opened; no human could push that thing open by themselves, so most doors were set to automatic. Spark entered, keeping her head up high as she did so.

Of course, there was the fact that this was a Med Station. And what did you have in Med Stations? Medics. Spark shivered; there were those little, scuttling insect medics, with their overly small eyes and overly large glasses; not the most pleasant sight on the best of the days, but at least you could squish these.

And then there were the others; the ones as tall as any other Transformer, Autobot and Decepticon alike. The ones that towered over you, that made those little minute changes to you with those enormous hands, so tall and unstoppable… she shuddered and moved on. She hated medics; hated them with every fiber of her being.

That was why Starscream had brought her here in the first place, she suspected. He knew about her fears; he knew most everything about her. Everything that Sentinel knew. He was, after all, second-in-command; but that didn't help Spark trust him. He was a snake at heart, a snake in metal skin. And everything he knew about her was only to be used against her later; after all, he'd made his dislike of her very plain. She saw him sitting in a large, black metal seat among the medics, across from a desk.

Starscream placed a hand on the ground; the gesture had long ago become an unspoken order to humans. She stepped on, and he lifted her up onto the desk, setting her down there. She jumped off quickly; Spark had her own ways of making the trip there, but in the end, this was easier.

"I wanted to make this meeting as discreet as possible," Starscream said, waving the medics away with an airy hand. Spark wanted to roll her eyes; discreet from who? The Decepticons were as abuzz with the news as the humans were.

"I'm sure," She answered coolly.

He gave her his best reptilian smile, then moved on as though she hadn't spoken. "Sentinel believes that you will not tell the humans about this message. He also believes that, if you did, the humans would mostly ignore it." He turned away, his sharp fingertips sliding across each other with the familiar rasp of metal-on-metal. "That such 'politics' would not 'apply to them,' in his words." His red eyes slid back to watch her. "But we know better, don't we?"

Spark pressed her own fingertips together, the skin yielding slightly to the pressure. "I don't see why he wouldn't think this applies to them," She said, her toe tapping a quiet rhythm on the desk.

"You know Sentinel," Starscream answered breezily. "He doesn't pay attention to the… _little _people."

Spark smirked. She had to admit, as much as Starscream was a worm, at least she _knew _that he was trying to manipulate her at all times. It was almost amusing to watch; until it wasn't. "What do you want, Scream?"

He eyed her carefully. "Nothing you won't be adverse to giving me; a bit of information." He turned to her, looking her in the eye. "What do the humans plan to do? Whose side do they fight for? Do they fight for any?"

Spark quirked an eyebrow. Well, here was as good a time as any to ask about that trip to Earth; but she didn't like the thought of asking Starscream first. He would undoubtedly use it to his advantage, only telling Sentinel of their plans when it suited him. She turned away from him, trying to make herself look more disinterested than avoidant.

"They fight for their own side," She answered cryptically. "As for what that means to your kind… I can't say at this time." She walked casually to the side, pacing slowly. "Soon. I believe you will have your answer soon."

Starscream studied her; he knew there was more to it than that. But he made no further comment on the matter, leaning back in his seat, watching her intently. Spark tried to look guiltless, to the point where she looked him in the eye and jutted her chin out arrogantly. "Is that all?" She asked, acid layering each word.

Starscream half-smiled in return. "Actually," He said slowly, calculatingly, "I would like to make an… _observation._" His metal fingers clinked together musically as they closed into a loose fist on the desk. He leaned a little closer to her, red eyes alight. Spark stared him down; most humans would be intimidated by the sight of a Decepticon looming over them like that. Most humans.

"Make it," She said flippantly, shrugging as though it couldn't possibly matter less. She always played this game with him, manipulation upon manipulation, deception upon deception, each of them giving away only what they wanted to and no more, and striving so hard to get what they wanted in return.

"When I spoke of the humans… When _you _spoke of them… you continually referred to them as 'they'. Not 'we' or 'us'. You still aren't including yourself among them." He leaned even closer; so close she could smell his oily, thick breath.

Spark cursed inwardly. Yep, there was no good way out of this one. She took only a second to consider her response-any longer and he would have thought of her as weak- then turned to him. His teeth were inches away, his squished-up face far too close for her liking. Those eyes… those red eyes… Spark found something within her wishing to counter them with a flash of blue from her own. But that was a part of herself that she hated; she quelled the feelings and stared back at him with her own amber, counting on her hatred to send them alight.

"Consider the difference between us, Starscream; the humans and I." She raised both of her eyebrows, refusing to back down. "I think it's safe to say that I don't quite…" She hesitated, testing a few words in her head, while making it seem as though it was on purpose. "_Belong,_" She concluded at last. Starscream's mouth stretched into the tiniest of smiles, and he leaned back again, his face out of hers. She was immensely grateful; not only did his breath reek, but he also had a tendency to spit when he talked, and she didn't want to be anywhere near his face when that happened.

He chuckled once. "Of course," He acknowledged, holding out a hand. Spark stepped on it reflexively and allowed him to set her back down on the ground. "You may go now, 82724."

Spark glanced around. "Come now, Scream. There's no one of interest here. You can use my real name."

Starscream, who had already been turning away from her, froze suddenly. Slowly, surely, he turned to her. His red eyes lit up. "Around them?" He inquired in a whisper so quiet that no one else could hear him. His right hand gestured vaguely to the medics in the room. Spark shivered and opened her mouth to say something else, but Starscream simply went on, "Very well."

And then he said it; her real name. Each syllable rolled off in a snake-like hiss, sending shivers down Spark's spine. She hadn't even known he knew; that he knew her _true _name, not her nickname, not the false name she gave to anyone who asked…

As Starscream smiled and started to lean away, Spark was grateful that he'd spoken quietly enough that none of the medics could hear; perhaps that was what kept her from killing him right here and now. Before he could recede too far, Spark's hand whipped up and caught a part of his throat; a few of the wires that attached his small head to his thick shoulders. He halted as her sharp silver nails pressed against his throat, and she yanked down _hard, _bringing his face back to her eye level.

She smiled benignly at him; a few of the medics stepped towards him, ready to rip Spark away from him, and he waved them away in supposed irritation; but Spark could see the fear in his eyes.

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough," She said brightly. "I apologize for the error in communication. I meant for you to use my nickname." She tilted her head to the side and brought her face closer to his, so that her lips were right next to where his ear should be.

"If you ever say that name again," She said, almost inaudibly, "I will kill you where you stand. Are we clear?"

Starscream all but spat out the word, "Perfectly."

Spark released him, keeping the happy smile on her face. "Nice talking with you," She said politely, and started out towards the door.

* * *

The entrance to Sentinel Prime's War Room (which in turn led to his quarters) was quite a thing to behold. A monstrous, towering set of metal doors, made to be impenetrable by human and Cybertronian alike. It was fairly easy to accomplish the former, but not so the latter; even Spark was impressed by the setup, and frequently wondered if she'd be able to break through it if she ever felt the need to. She wasn't sure she could, which-if she was honest- was rather unnerving.

But, for now, she decided to stick with the usual method; she stepped up to the eye reader; it was rare, but not unheard of, that a human would need to speak with Sentinel Prime, so readers had been made to accommodate them, standing at average human height (it also aided Decepticons of the same size). Typically, these humans would come to discuss repairs on Cybertron, and they would follow the same procedure as the Decepticons; their eyes would be read, and they would be asked their purpose for coming here. If it was a reasonable purpose, and if Sentinel could discuss it at the time (or one of those lower in his command) then they would be allowed through.

Spark smiled lightly to herself as she approached the large doors. When she was a child, her and some of the other kids would come here and dare each other to look into the reader. And of course, one would do so; their identity would be noted in the computer for the rest of time, a blemish on their record, but it was only a minor offense, and the Decepticons very rarely did anything against it; it was just a bunch of kids playing pranks.

When the reader would ask about the purpose for their visits, the children would answer stupid things, like, _to eat salad, _or _to listen to some tunes with Sentinel! _

Spark herself had a rather difficult time with understanding the other children's humor; though back then, she had not known why that was. She now knew that a part of her was twisted, broken up inside, so that she couldn't understand why such innocent humor was so different from the purpose _she _gave at the time: _to stab Sentinel right in the eyes. _

Of course, the other children had just looked at her like she'd lost her mind, then run away screaming when the doors opened for her. Spark had thought then and there that she'd finally crossed a line, and wished to run away with them, but where could she go? Where could she hide from such monsters, monsters who controlled everything? So she'd gone inside to see Sentinel. Gone inside to what she was sure was her inevitable destruction.

As Spark-the adult- gave her identification and allowed the reader to scan her amber eye, she snorted. Yes, she'd been destroyed that day. But not in the way she'd expected. The scanner finished its work and inquired in that annoyingly cool, polite mechanical voice, "Purpose for visit?"

Spark spoke very clearly into the open air. "I wish to speak with Sentinel Prime about the message."

There was a faint, mechanical whirring; Spark waited as her message was relayed a few times to Sentinel's underlings. She knew she had priority; Sentinel rarely refused to see her when she came, and the underlings all knew this by now. A moment later, the doors ground open, the metal sending orange sparks up into the air as they scratched along the steel ground. She went inside slowly, into the dark chasm that lay beyond. There was a moment of blackness, and then she emerged into the light again. A smaller Decepticon, taller than Spark but smaller than a majority of Cybertronians, walked up towards her. Its silver body looked almost skeletal in nature, with all of the harsh angles and lines characteristic of most Decepticons. His red eyes scanned Spark up and down.

"82724," He greeted her; it was civil enough, but she could tell that he did not want her here. "Sentinel is currently in a very important meeting. If you would like to speak with me, or to come back another time…"

Spark cut him off. "This can't wait. Besides; his generals will want to hear this, too." The Decepticon eyed her doubtfully, but she lifted an eyebrow. The underlings knew her-and her relationship with Sentinel- by now. They should know better then to try and stop her. "Have I ever been wrong before?" She asked.

He considered, then sighed. "Council room." He turned away. "You know where it is."

Spark did know. She turned to the left, went down a small hallway and went straight to the door at the end. She'd been in his council room a total of three times; twice with Sentinel alone, once with his generals and other soldiers attending. It, like the entrance to this place, was colossal, and never failed to take her breath away. Spark pushed through the doors. These ones were not so closely guarded, and meant to be somewhat easily accessible; to Decepticons, at least. Not so much to humans.

Once inside, Spark closed the doors. No one paid her much mind; no one even looked up. They were all highly involved in what was happening, wrapped up so tightly in their plans. A few smaller metal creatures scuttled around the ground, a few walking around to fetch new materials as others needed them, some giving advice here and there. They sat hunched over a holo-table, with bright holograms of a few planets hanging in the sky; Mars, Earth, and Cybertron being the main focus. Mars, after all, was where the Autobots made their current home base. The problem was, their force field was impenetrable, and no one knew how great their numbers were.

There were many large Decepticons in the room; some so large that their heads brushed against the enormous ceiling. Sentinel stood at the front of the table, Starscream at his side; the little snake hissed advice into his ear from time to time, but rarely spoke aloud.

Spark watched silently for a while, wondering if anyone would notice her, or if she'd have to make her entrance a bit more dramatic. She hoped it was the latter.

"If the Autobots attack now, we may lose more of Earth," one of the Decepticons spoke in a silky, dark voice. He was speaking Cybertronian, but Spark, like most every one of the slaves, had learned it as a second language fairly quickly. "If we lose Earth, we _will _lose the humans. They're barely listening to us as it is."

Ok, that wasn't true. But Spark let him put his foot in his mouth a little more; she'd show him how stupid it was to think like that later. She slouched against the door, arms folded, watching the mayhem unfold with calculating eyes.

"Shockwave?" Sentinel looked to the one-eyed Decepticon for confirmation; or for details. Shockwave shifted on his thick tentacles slowly. Dust and ash scattered the metal floor where he moved. He'd been to Earth; and recently.

"Earth can spare no losses," he answered the Prime in a broken, whispery voice. Sentinel nodded solemnly; the outcome certainly looked grim. Spark watched them all.

"Suggestions?" Sentinel inquired of the table.

"I say we attack Mars," One of the Decepticons answered immediately. Her eyes gleamed with bloodlust. "What do we have to lose from a frontal attack?" Spark rolled her eyes. Amateurs.

"No. We should fortify our defenses," Someone else suggested. Ugh, it was nauseating how Decepticons couldn't agree on anything.

"I say we keep a closer eye on the humans; we don't know if they're going to suddenly decide to join the Autobots in this fight." It was that same stupid Decepticon again, further shoving his metal foot into his mouth.

"The humans can't do anything to help or harm our cause," Someone else interjected abruptly.

"You'd be surprised," Starscream muttered, rubbing his throat. Spark grinned, unable to help herself.

That decided it; she stepped forwards. "Or you could ask me," She announced, very clearly. All eyes turned to her immediately, Sentinel's included. It had the reaction she'd been expecting, and hoping for; all at once, a few of the smaller Decepticons pinned her arms behind her back, and the larger ones aimed enormous cannons at her head. Spark just smiled up at them all, amused.

"Hold your fire!" Sentinel barked, holding up a hand. Immediately, everyone froze. "Release her," he ordered of the Decepticons holding her; their grip slackened, and she slipped through.

She gave him a low, sweeping bow. "Much obliged," She said mockingly.

"82724," Sentinel started sternly, "What are you doing here?"

She smiled at him blissfully. "Doing what I'm best at; solving every single one of your problems." She gauged the distance between herself and the holo-table, then quickly planned a course to get herself atop it. With careful moves, she hopped to the table leg, up to a Decepticon's leg; he backed away quickly, but Spark was already jumping to the next Decepticon, one after another, higher and higher, until she was at the table's height; she leapt onto it and landed with perfect grace. The Decepticons looked at her warily, but Spark and Sentinel both ignored their discontented mutters.

"Continue," Sentinel said calculatingly, peering at her over his folded hands.

"It's simple, really," Spark said, pacing around the table with light, skipping steps. "You want the Autobots gone. We-the human race- want the Autobots gone." She shot a meaningful look to Starscream as she said 'we'. "It only seems right that we should work together on this."

A Decepticon snorted aloud; Spark's gaze slid sideways to him. "Humanity cannot help us. Humanity could not even help itself."

Spark shot him a look. "Really?" She asked. "Well, then. I guess I won't help. Sorry I intruded on your precious time. It just seemed to me like you could have used all the help you could get, but oh, no it's ok, I understand." She started towards the end of the table closest to the door.

"Spark…" Sentinel said in a low, warning voice. She froze, a slow, vicious smile spreading across her face. Sentinel sighed wearily. "I'm listening."

Spark gave him her best, biggest, toothiest grin, whirling around on her heel and walking up with light steps. "Oh, wonderful. I'd hoped you would." She leaned casually on the protesting Decepticon's arm; he tried to remove it, but Spark flashed her grin up to him and, for some reason, he didn't dare to. She turned her focus back to Sentinel.

"The plan's quite simple, really," Spark said chirpily. "Humanity wants the Autobots out of the way. They're like bad house guests: big, annoying, constantly talking politics and always leaving a mess behind." She waved a hand about, as though shooing a fly. "So here's the deal. We want to send a message. The clearest message we can; untouched by Decepticon hands. Something that will leave them with no doubt that humanity wants them to leave us alone, that we do not wish to be freed, and that they can have their precious _peace _if –and only if- they stop this constant _war. _

"But the only way to send that kind of message would be through a communications relay built by human hands alone. But that would take _way _too long. So here's what we're thinking; you send one of us-just one!- down to Earth. I don't care how many guards you have to send with them; we're cooperating pretty well with you, if you haven't noticed. That person finds some old Autobot tech from there. We send a message and, badda bing, badda boom! Problem solved! Autobots go bye bye, and we all live in peace and frickin harmony for the rest of our lives!" She threw up her hands in a big finish, then dropped them to her sides, still grinning like a loon.

There was silence for a very, very long time. "And if they do not listen?" Starscream asked, in his hissing, spitting voice.

Spark's eyebrows rose. "Well, I should've thought that was obvious." She slouched, folding her arms across her chest, shifting her weight to her right foot as she stood in front of Sentinel. "If the Autobots will not listen, then the humans will take a side." Her amber eyes grew dark. "Yours."

Another ringing silence. Finally, a Decepticon leaned its big, ugly face closer to Spark's. "And why should we trust any human to go back to Earth? Why should we trust any human to be around Autobot technology? Why should we trust that they won't run away, or that they won't signal to the Autobots what our weak points are?"

Spark's eyes had closed in the Decepticon's rant, and as she heard the others muttering their agreement, another smile-crueler and darker than before- took over her features. "Why?" She asked at last, her eyes flicking open. She turned around and started to walk with careful, measured steps across the table, closer to the door.

"It's a good question," She said after a moment, pretending to puzzle it out, keeping her back to that Decepticon and the others. "A perfectly valid question, too. Why should you trust a human? Why should you trust someone who only claims to want the Autobots gone?" She reached the edge of the table and stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels for a second, slowly.

"So why send a human?" She asked after a moment. She looked at her hands, picking at the skin around her silver nails. Every movement was calculated, planned to perfection. Leave them guessing. Leave them questioning. "Why send a simple, ordinary, untrustworthy, weak, pathetic _human? _Why not send someone who you _know _hates the Autobots: whose hatred parallels and quite possibly _surpasses _your own? Why not send someone who has more reason to hate the Autobots than even you?" She dropped her hands down in front of her, allowing her silver nails to lengthen, dropping her disguise. "Why not send someone…" Silver spines slowly started to slide out of her back, along her backbone, thick and sharp. Her skin slowly gained a metallic sheen; she heard the Decepticon's worried murmuring, and hid a smile as blue began to glow out of her amber eyes.

She whirled to them all; again, she got the exact reaction she wanted. She smiled with all of her metal teeth.

"Who's been changed?" She concluded, holding up her hands. Her silver, pointed fingernails-which looked like blades in and of themselves- clinked together, each about a foot in length.

The Decepticons all stared in horror. Surely they had heard the legends. Surely they had listened to the whispers and rumors of creatures such as her. A few visibly backed away from her, and one almost fell to the ground in his rush to get away. But, amidst all of the fear and chaos her sudden reveal had generated, Sentinel watched, looking rather bored.

"Always with the theatrics," he sighed heavily, a tired sound. Spark shrugged, a _what-can-you-do _gesture. Sentinel leaned his head to the side, resting it in his fingers; his index tapped lightly against his temple. "Very well, 82724. You may go to Earth."

Spark lifted one eyebrow, giving Starscream a vaguely smug look. The second-in-command scowled at her; not particularly afraid, but certainly keeping his distance. "Thanking you kindly," Spark said, giving a low, swooping bow as her nails and spines receded, and she began to look human once more.

She turned and winked at the other Decepticons, then leapt off the table, whistling as she walked away.


End file.
